


Driver's Ed

by NarutoRox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby (the Impala) is maimed a little, Castiel Feels, Castiel behind the wheel, Dean and Pie, Driving Lessons, Family, Family Bonding, Gen, Human Castiel, Humor, Light Angst, Light Hurt/Comfort, Minor Car Accident, Minor injuries (to the Impala), Sam is my co-pilot, Suprise Light Angst, Teaching Cas how to drive, because this is Supernatural and the Winchesters we're talking about, post-season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 19:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2080611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarutoRox/pseuds/NarutoRox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't Castiel's fault. Well, not really, anyway. Okay, maybe a little...But try explaining that to Dean. Especially if it involves the Impala. </p><p>When Cas experiences one of the perils of being a student driver, he and Sam have to come up with a decent excuse for Dean. Before things get really, REALLY ugly...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first (and so far, only) Supernatural fan fiction, published almost exactly a year ago on my FFN account while I was waiting for season 9; AKA, the Hellatus of 2013. 
> 
> It's supposed to take place sometime during season 9, but as I wrote this before actually seeing any of it and now I have, it's not really as canon-compliant as I would have liked. All well, Cas DID drive at some point in S9, so I guess we can pretend that some variation of this took place before that. ;)

 

"Yeah, you're a dead man." said Sam, leaning back on the chair and away from the tiny motel table, running his hand over his face.

"But it was an accident." Castiel protested, leaning forward in his own seat and glancing anxiously towards the door. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"Doesn't matter. He's still going to kill you. And me, for letting it happen. In fact, he'll probably kill me first." Sam sighed gloomily.

"But the scratch isn't even that big." Cas insisted stubbornly.

"Then _you_ can tell him that." Sam muttered.

"But it's not that bad!"

"Face it, Cas. This is our last day on Earth. You maimed his baby." groaned Sam, resting his head and arms on the table. "I never should have let you drive." he added, voice muffled by his arms.

Because, sad as it was, Sam was right. Dean could forgive a lot of things (starting Armageddon, letting leviathans loose on the world, beating him to a bloody pulp, ect.), but, accident or no, the four-inch long scratch on the passenger's side door of the Impala was not going to be one of them.

In retrospect, though, it wasn't really all Cas's fault.

**~xXx~**

Cas had been bugging Sam and Dean for weeks, pestering them to teach him how to drive. And though both the brothers had seen the logic in it, there was one point Dean had made very clear: Not in the Impala. Actually, his exact words were that he would slow dance naked with bigfoot before he let a novice driver like Cas behind the wheel of his baby. Really, he didn't even let Sam drive unless he was sleeping, ill, unconscious, or dying. There was no way Cas was going to without even having any experience.

Cas pointed out that it was the only readily available car to teach him in, and Sam agreed with him. Dean replied that they could steal one. Sam said that seemed kind of petty. Dean called Sam a hypocrite, and Cas complained they were just making excuses so they wouldn't have to teach him. Eventually, a compromise was reached, and Sam rented a car for Cas's first driving lesson (which really _was_ hypocritical of him, as he rented it with money they had obtained via questionable means).

Cas rear-ended a pick-up truck on his first try. In his defence, Sam hadn't specified how hard he should have hit the gas.

He backed over two garbage cans and a cat on his second try, despite the fact that he wasn't even supposed to be in reverse, and just barely missed running over someone.

After that, Dean proclaimed Sam a terrible driving instructor and took over, though it didn't get much better from there. No cats or people died, but the poor car they used did suffer greatly, especially after Cas drove it into a ditch. (Later, this would be the prime example Dean used when loudly explaining just why Cas was not to drive his baby.)

Eventually, with practice, Cas became less of a Oh-my-God-we're-gonna-die-with-him-behind-the- wheel driver and more of a just plain bad driver. With even more practice, he became what Dean had deemed an 'acceptable' driver. Cas seemed pleased with that, but was dismayed when Dean still wouldn't let him drive the Impala.

And really, no one with knowledge of Castiel's driving skills could blame him. Even after all the practice, Cas was, well, _intense_ behind the wheel.

This translated into whiplash inducing hairpin turns that no sane human would take, as well as tire-screeching stops when he slammed on the brakes. He had absolutely no care for speed limits, and either drove at speeds that alarmed even Dean when they were on a back road or straight-away, or, if he was in an urban area or city, poked along at a snail's pace that would have most old grannies yelling for him to speed up or get off the road. He was terrible at judging distances, and was constantly bumping into or scraping against things. He also had a bad habit of drifting off the road, especially in the direction of whatever had caught his attention in the scenery.

All of this got a little better with time and practice, but still. Dean loved his baby, and as long as he was around to draw breath, Castiel would not be driving it. End of story.

Or so it would have been, had the guys not taken that job with Garth in Indiana.

* * *

 

Though Garth had originally thought it might have been demons and wanted a little back up, it had ended up being a simple case of one pissed-off old ghost. A simple case that had been complicated slightly when Sam got caught breaking into one of the victims houses by a neighbor (who also happened to be the town sheriff).

After knocking the sheriff out and driving like thieves away from the scene, Sam and Dean met up with Garth and Cas, and it was decided that, just to be safe, Sam and Cas would head back to the motel in the Impala to keep a low profile, while Garth and Dean headed over to the cemetary to burn the bones.

This is, of course, is where the story takes its terrible turn.

Garth and Dean hadn't been gone for more than a minute, and Sam and Cas had just gotten into the Impala - with Sam in the driver's seat, of course - when Cas asked the fateful question: "Can I drive?"

Sam had been in the process of digging the keys out of his pocket, but paused when he heard Castiel's question.

"What?"

"Can I drive?" Cas repeated, eyes darting from the steering wheel to Sam. He knew what the answer would probably be, but he thought he'd ask. "I haven't gotten to lately, and I...don't want to get rusty."

It took all of half a second of consideration for Sam before he answered. "No," he said, putting the keys in the ignition. "You remember what Dean said. Besides, it's only been a week." Or two, but really, no one got 'rusty' from not driving for two weeks.

Cas had been expecting that, but he still deflated a little. "Okay." he said, settling in his seat in disappointment.

Sam frowned and felt a little pang of sympathy as he watched Cas stare out the window, looking glum. He of all people knew what it felt like to be treated like a child, especially by Dean. Really, Cas wasn't _that_ terrible of a driver; they had even gotten to the all-important lessons on how to break into and hot wire a car in case of emergencies (which Cas was eerily good at). Besides, Sam had the suspicion that Cas liked doing it because it made him feel more useful. Maybe they were being too hard on him.

Mind made up, Sam let the air out of his lungs in a huff, pulling the keys back out of the ignition and holding them out to Cas. Cas stared back, mystified for a moment, before Sam rolled eyes and gave them a little jingle.

"Go ahead," he sighed, dropping them into Cas's now outstretched hand. "Just this once. But," he added, holding up one finger. "Do _not_ tell Dean. Neither of us will hear the end of it. Got it?" Cas nodded enthusiastically as he got out to switch places with Sam, seeming genuinely pleased when he got into the driver's seat and started the car.

"Do you remember how to get back to the motel?" Sam asked, trying to hide the smile that was creeping up on him. Cas's mood was infectious.

"Yes," he answered, carefully putting the car in gear. "Uh, thank you." he added, glancing quickly at him before turning his full attention to the road ahead of him.

Sam shrugged and waved his hand in a 'don't mention it' gesture, even though Cas was no longer paying attention to him.

It was a quiet, uneventful ten-minute drive. Cas looked almost disappointed when he pulled into their parking place at the motel and turned the car off, which made Sam feel guilty again. There had been no whiplash, no horns honking - really, Cas wasn't a bad driver at all, now that he'd been at it a couple of months. Sam felt bad; he and Dean really had been too hard on the guy.

It was with that thought in mind that Sam made the disastrous decision.

"Hey, I'm kinda hungry," he said, reaching out to close his half-opened door. "What do you say to going and grabbing a burger? I saw a place up the street."

"Alright." said Cas, clearly not getting it as he went to open his own door. Sam sighed.

"You can drive, Cas." he hedged patiently.

"What? Oh. Oh, right." Cas said, sitting up straighter and half-smiling to himself when he started the car up again.

"I guess we should get Dean and Garth something, too." Sam said as they pulled up to curb were the diner he wanted was located. "Something with extra bacon and onio-"

That's when they both heard it.

The unmistakable sound of metal scraping against metal.

They both froze for a second, then turned to each other, wide-eyed. "What was that?" Cas asked nervously, eyes flicking to all of the mirrors at once.

"No," Sam half-choked, looking behind him to the very-close parking meter just behind his door. "No no no no no." he muttered as he threw open his door and got out of the car. He reached up and ran both hands through his hair at what he saw.

There was a thin, four to five-inch scratch on the door, just a hand's length over from the door handle. A twisted little piece of metal that had been mostly wrapped around the parking meter was barely sticking out, and it now had a scrape of the Impala's paint-job on it.

Cas got out of the car and stepped around to stand beside Sam, surveying the damage. They both stood there in silence for a few minutes.

"What now?" Cas asked finally, a little hushed.

"We pray," Sam muttered, taking the keys from Cas. "And I drive."

**~xXx~**

There was no feasible way to get it fixed before Dean returned, which would be any minute now.

"Maybe we can tell him we were attacked by demons." Sam suggested, voice still muffled by his arms as he lay with his head on the motel table in defeat.

"I doubt he'll believe us." said Cas, slumped in his seat.

Sam sighed and straightened up. "You're right. Plus he'd probably try to go after them in revenge." He stood up and groaned, running his hand through his hair for the umpteenth time as he paced. "Damn it, I never should have let you drive."

Cas scowled at him, dropping one of the french fries he'd been picking at. Even though neither of them had felt like eating, they'd picked up the food anyway in the blind hope that Dean would be less angry at them with a bacon cheeseburger in his hand.

"It was an accident. I didn't do it on purpose. That piece of metal shouldn't have been there." Cas grumbled sulkily, propping his head up on his elbow. "The same thing would have happened if you'd been driving."

Sam didn't have an answer to that, mostly because it was true. Anybody could have hit the thing. Really, if anyone was to blame it was the stupid city for their low maintenance standards.

Sam gave a frustrated sigh. "It doesn't matter now whose fault it is. We're in this together, now. Look, we'll just play it cool, and, and-" They heard the sound of car doors. Cas lifted his head up to peek out the window, then jerked back. "He's here!" he hissed, looking panicked. Sam darted over to his abandoned seat and opened his laptop.

"Just follow my lead," he muttered just as the door swung open and the man of the hour himself stomped in.

"Do you know what I just saw out there?" Dean demanded, tossing his bag in the direction of his bed and gesturing out the door. Sam and Cas exchanged terrified looks, but before either of them could say anything Dean broke out into a laugh.

"Come on, you guys didn't see it? There was this big sign in front of the diner across the street-free pie!" he exclaimed excitedly. Cas and Sam both blinked and looked at each other. Pie? Dean was excited about pie? Not murderously infuriated with them for the destruction of his car?

"Well, with purchase, of course, but still! They had like ten different flavors listed on the sign." he added, misunderstanding their looks. "Come on, can I get some excitement, here?"

"Uh, yeah, great." said Sam, kicking Cas under the table. "I-I like pie." Cas said, clearly not knowing what to do with this information. Did this mean he wasn't angry? Were they really going to live because of pie? Why hadn't they thought of that when they bought the burgers?! For that matter, why the hell hadn't they walked across the street to that diner instead taking that ill-fated burger run?!

"Of course you like pie! Who doesn't like pie?" Dean scoffed, walking to the bathroom to wash his hands. "So, I say we blow this joint and fill our pieholes with all we can eat! Whattaya say?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, why not?" Sam called, before leaning over to Cas to hiss "He hasn't noticed yet!"

"Only because he hasn't seen the car yet." Cas muttered back, distressed. "He'll find out the second he gets a good look at it."

"So we don't let him get a good look at it," Sam whispered, casting a quick glance towards the closed bathroom door. "If we don't mention it and he doesn't notice it for a day or two, maybe he'll think someone else scratched it or something."

Cas glanced nervously at the bathroom door for a second, and was just about to ask if Sam was sure that would work when Dean came back out, still grinning like a fool and whistling the Scorpions' 'Someone Like You'. Unfortunately, at the same time, Garth came through the motel door - having finally done whatever it was he'd been doing in his car - pointed back out the door with his thumb, and said "Hey, Dean? How long has that scratch been on the Impala?"

Cas and Sam both winced, while Dean froze. "What?! WHAT scratch?!"

"The long one on the passenger's side door, right above the ding." Garth said curiously. Sam winced again; he hadn't even noticed the ding. "I was just asking 'cause I don't remember seeing it earlier. Hey, Cas, something wrong? You look kinda sick." Oh, Garth was a dead man, when Sam got ahold of him.

Dean made a strangled zombie noise and ran out the door to check the damage to his precious baby, while Cas gave Sam a wide-eyed look very akin to terror. Garth moseyed out after Dean, and with a sigh, Sam got up and followed suit.

"Sam," Dean growled. "Explain. _Now_." Sam took a quick look at his brother's face, before arranging his own in what he hoped was a believable expression of innocence.

"I have no idea, Dean, it wasn't there earlier."

"My ass. What. Did. You. Do?"

" _I_ didn't do anything!"

"Sam, I swear to God-"

Garth wisely left the brothers to their argument and went back to lean against the door frame of the motel room. Cas, who'd been standing in the doorway with a faintly miserable expression, didn't immediately notice and jumped when Garth spoke.

"So," he asked conversationally, his hands in his pockets. "What _did_ happen to the door?"

Cas sighed. "I hit a faulty parking meter."

"Oh." Garth looked thoughtful. "No biggie, man. Accidents happen."

"I don't think Dean sees it that way." Cas replied as Dean started advancing on Sam, who bid a hasty retreat around the Impala, shouting "Come on, Dean, be reasonable!"

"Well, the scratch ain't that big, really." Garth commented, while Cas wondered if he should just grow a pair and admit to Dean that he'd been driving, before he actually caught Sam. Dean, as if sensing guilt, stopped giving chase and froze in front of the Impala, glaring at Cas.

"Cas," he said in a half-choked voice, pointing at the damaged door. "Do you know what happened here?"

"W-well..." Cas felt himself start to sweat a little, and noticed Garth had pushed off the wall away from him, apparently afraid of getting between Dean and his new prey. Sam, who was still making sure there was a car between him and his brother, shook his head frantically at Cas.

Dean took a step forward. Cas had seen demons less intimidating.

"Sam said it was okay for me to drive," he said, and no, it didn't come out as a whine. Not really, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the second (and final) chapter of Driver's Ed. ^_^ 
> 
> Special thanks to everyone who left kudos on the last chapter, I appreciate it!
> 
> I'm probably pushing the humor genre on this chapter, but....this is Supernatural. 'Nuff said.

 

 

The whole, sordid tale came out after that, with Dean taking it as well as expected.

Which was, of course, terribly.

"How could you let him drive my car, after I explicitly said he couldn't!"

"Don't yell at me, it's not my fault! It could have happened to anybody-"

"Well it didn't, did it! And-"

Cas could still hear the brothers arguing from the cheap metal bench he was sitting on in the motel parking lot. It's main purpose seemed to be that of a place to smoke, but it also worked for guilty brooding as well. There weren't very many patrons at this motel, but still, if they didn't quiet down soon, someone was going to complain.

Oddly enough, Dean seemed to be blaming Sam more than Cas, which somehow only made Cas feel worse.

Garth had taken off half an hour ago for a supply run - which could have meant anything from drinks to earplugs, but if he was hoping all of this would be over by the time he got back, it looked as though he was going to be sorely disappointed.

The shouting abruptly stopped; Cas heard the door slam, followed by the heavy footsteps of someone walking in his direction. He didn't look up or acknowledge whoever it was, though, until they sat down next to him on the bench and he recognized the boots as Sam's.

"Is he still angry?" Cas muttered, knowing it was a stupid question.

Sam sighed. "He's cooling off." he said, stretching his arms over the bench and gazing out into the unimpressive view of the parking lot Cas seemed so interested in.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam shrugged. "It was an accident, don't worry about it. Dean'll come around. I don't think you'll be driving the Impala again anytime soon, though."

Cas chuckled once, without humor. "Yes, I figured." He didn't say it in any particular tone, but the words themselves radiated misery.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, having a hard time reading Cas's mood. "You know, Cas, it isn't that big a deal. Not driving, I mean. You have lots of other...skill sets." When Cas just stared at him blankly, Sam plunged on. "You know we don't think you're useless, don't you?"

Cas just looked even more confused. "What does that have to do with anything? Why would-" he frowned. "You think I like to drive because it makes me feel...useful?"

Sam couldn't tell if the change in Cas's tone meant he was insulted or not. "Uh, I dunno. Do you?"

Cas chuckled for real this time, much to Sam's surprise. "No, not at all. Well, that is part of it, I suppose, but really I just..." The smile faded from his face, and he seemed to be trying to find the right words as he stared out into the parking lot, elbows on his knees. "I just like the freedom of it, mostly. To be, to be able to just go, wherever you want, of your own volition. To be in control, to...literally be in the driver's seat. It's very...liberating." He snuck a peek back at Sam then, looking almost sheepish. "I sound pathetic, don't I?"

Sam blinked twice in surprise. "No, not at all." he said, shaking his head. "Believe me, I can understand wanting to feel like you have control of your own life. That's...actually pretty human, Cas."

Cas didn't know what to say to that, so he just cocked his head to the side a little in acknowledgement and went back to staring out at nothing. Sam seemed obliged to let him.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, until Sam spoke again. "If it's really that important to you, we could always fix up one of the old junkers from Bobby's old scrap yard." he said carefully, watching for Cas's reaction.

"Hmmm? Oh, no, thank you. It's fine." Cas answered, sounding distant.

"You sure?" Sam pressed. "I mean, it would be yours..."

"Well...I...have a bit of a confession to make." Cas said slowly, breaking from his scrutiny of the parking lot almost reluctantly. "Ah, um...that wasn't the only reason I wanted to drive the Impala today."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?" He'd had a feeling Cas had been holding something back.

"Uh, well..." Cas seemed almost embarrassed, and didn't keep eye contact with Sam, choosing to go back to staring at the asphalt. "I suppose I just wanted to drive...it."

"It?" Sam questioned, raising his eyebrows. Cas gestured towards where the car was still parked. "You mean the Impala?" Cas nodded, a faint blush becoming visible. Sam laughed, mostly at Cas's embarrassment. "You like the Impala?"

Cas shot Sam a look that told him he didn't appreciate being laughed at before returning his attention to the ground. "I guess I _have_ grown fond of it." he admitted, almost grudgingly. "Though...not so much the car as what it represents."

"The American automotive industry at it's best?" Sam suggested. Cas gave him a blank look and shook his head. "Then you've lost me."

Cas sighed. "For as long as I've known you and Dean, you've been in that vehicle. The big, dark, 1967 Chevy Impala that is synonymous with the Winchesters; even most demons and angels recognize it on sight." Cas chuckled.

Sam was a little surprised Cas remembered the Impala's entire make and model; he had been paying more attention than either he or Dean thought.

"You eat, sleep, travel in it...it's practically your home. You've lived in it, and it's been in your family so long it's almost as if it _is_ a part of the family." Sam wondered if he was imagining the little hint of jealously he heard in Cas's voice just then. "What I mean to say is...it's very important to you. I can't picture it without picturing you or Dean inside, and I guess I just..."

"Wanted to belong." Sam finished quietly, internally kicking himself for not understanding sooner. The Impala might have been Dean's car, technically, but Sam had always associated it with family; when he and Dean were together, they were in the Impala. It _was_ a kind of home; they'd practically grown up in the thing. And, pending an emergency, Sam pretty much was the only person that Dean let drive it. He could see how, from Cas's point of view, driving the Impala would somehow make you a part of the family.

Damn it, and he and Dean hadn't even been letting Cas sit in the front seat.

"Cas...you're still family. No matter _what_ car you drive." Sam said softly as Cas continued to avoid looking at him directly. Cas blinked several times, then nodded, still not making eye contact.

It was quiet for long enough that Sam figured he'd embarrassed Cas, and was deciding on whether or not he should leave him alone when Cas finally responded.

"Thank you, Sam." he said quietly, though he was still looking at his feet. "I-that means a lot."

Sam didn't really know what to say to that, so he didn't say anything, just nodded and gave Cas a pat on the shoulder. "Don't mention it," Hell, he hoped he didn't want a hug. Not that he wouldn't do it, just that it would be awkward. Especially if Dean looked out the window and saw them. He would never hear the end of it.

"Uh, we can still get you your own car, if you want." Sam added, hoping to steer the situation away from chick-flick territory, as Dean would call it. "I mean, it isn't the Impala, and it would have to be one of Bobby's old ones, but, you know, we could help you fix it up. Make it your own, I mean. Maybe even teach you how to fix cars yourself?"

Cas finally made eye contact, much to Sam's relief, with a half-smile on his face. "I...yes, thank you. I think I would like that."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Dean's gruff voice made Sam and Cas jump, both twisting in their seats to find him standing a few feet behind the bench, his hands in his pockets. Though he was frowning, he didn't look livid like he had earlier, and the look in his eyes told Sam he'd been standing there awhile.

Dean scowled at Sam when he noticed his scrutiny, but there was a silent communication there, too. _Yes, I feel guilty, and yes, he's forgiven. Mostly._ Aloud, though, he turned his attention to Cas and said "Might as well, fixing 'em if they break down was going to be my next lesson, anyway. Doesn't really do you any good if you're chasing a demonic lead in the middle of nowhere and a line breaks or something and you don't know how to fix it."

Cas nodded mutely, giving Sam a look that silently asked him what was going on. Sam gave him what he hoped was a reassuring nod coupled with a shrug in answer, which didn't make Cas look any better.

Dean carried on as though he hadn't noticed the exchange, which Sam found unlikely. "We'll head over to South Dakota tomorrow. Right after we do something about the door." he said, shooting Sam the stink eye. Sam sighed. Looked like only Cas was forgiven, for now anyway.

"There's a lot of easy back roads on the way," Dean added, clearing his throat and turning his back to them as he starting walking out into the parking lot. "Not a lot of stuff to hit." He shot Cas a scowl over his shoulder, but Sam could see Dean's heart wasn't really in it. "Maybe you can get some more practice then."

Cas's eyes had gone wide, but he nodded again, not trusting himself to say the right thing. "What happened?" he whispered to Sam, still gaping at Dean's retreating back.

"Uh, dunno." Sam answered with a shrug, though he did. "Guess he cooled off."

Cas still looked worried. "But-"

"Hey, are you coming?" Dean demanded from across the lot.

"What?" Sam called back. Dean scowled again and pointed across the street. "The pie, remember?" he said, sounding aggravated. "I don't know about you, but I could use some. You two coming or not?!"

Sam and Cas looked at each other; Sam gave Cas another shrug, then got up to follow Dean. As they hustled over to meet him, Sam heard Cas mutter "I still don't understand," under his breath.

"Don't worry about it, Cas. He's just in a good mood 'cause of the pie." Sam said, clapping Cas on the shoulder and causing him to nearly trip. Dean, already across the street, let out a few barks of laughter as Sam helped Cas catch his balance, and Sam had to fight to keep from smiling himself.

  
_Don't worry about it, Cas._ He thought as he helped Cas right himself. _It's just what family does._

Dean was still laughing when they finally made it in and found Garth - looking very relieved to see them all getting along now - huddled in a booth. (Apparently, 'getting supplies' was code for 'getting the hell out of everyone's way until they worked things out'.)

Dean's good mood persisted even when, two hours later, they walked past the Impala's damaged door to get to their hotel room.

Sam was bringing in the rear, so he saw Cas's hands clench nervously into his jacket pocket as his gaze flicked to Dean's back, then the car. Then, almost as though he was letting go of something heavy, Cas let out a long, soft breath, smiled to himself, and asked Dean if they could go back to the diner in the morning before they left.

Sam grinned. _Yep,_ he thought. _Just like family._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I originally wrote this, it was supposed to be a funny, light-hearted comedy about Cas getting behind the wheel of the Impala...and the ending turned out to be a mildly angst-y talk about their feelings. I didn't plan it that way, which makes me wonder if this is what the writers of Supernatural have to deal with...maybe one simply cannot write about the Winchesters and company without making it angst-ridden to some degree? Thought for the day.
> 
> Thanks for reading - I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. ^_^


End file.
